


i'm a fire and i'll keep your brittle heart warm

by zapfinoo



Series: tdc fix-it fics [5]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Asexual Thomas because Dylan and I said so, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, One Shot, Shy Thomas, i love them, pre-tdc, supportive Newt, yes i am projecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:27:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28391640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zapfinoo/pseuds/zapfinoo
Summary: Newt's eyes are dark pools of determination and something else, something more mysterious that Thomas can’t quite distinguish. Their lack of height difference allows Newt to press another soft kiss to the corner of his mouth before whispering, “Come to bed, love. Let me make you feel better, yeah?”Thomas’ heart rate picks up at Newt’s words and the clear implications they hold, and the gentle warmth in his chest is suddenly replaced by an unpleasant sense of nervousness.
Relationships: Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Series: tdc fix-it fics [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/931767
Comments: 18
Kudos: 132
Collections: Pieces of Newtmas





	i'm a fire and i'll keep your brittle heart warm

**Author's Note:**

> hello beautiful people on the newtmas tag. this is inspired by [this video](https://twitter.com/fIarevirus/status/1343553947521396736) of dylan creating a lovely headcanon about his own character that I just had to bring to life. hope you like it hehe <3 STAN ASEXUALS
> 
> (the title is from taylor swift's "peace". it is, in fact, thomas' anthem.)

“What are you still doing here, love?” 

Thomas is abruptly pulled out of his work-induced trance when he suddenly hears Newt’s voice. He looks up to find him near the entrance of the huge tent that serves as the place for important meetings every once in a while. 

“I’m going over the maps,” Thomas replies, briefly meeting Newt’s eyes before turning his attention back to the mess of scattered sketches of the train-tracks that they’ve charted over the last six months. “We have a big mission tomorrow.”

“I’m well aware of that, actually,” Newt says, smirking as he approaches him. “But it’s nearly midnight, Tommy. You should get some rest so you don’t fall asleep on the bloody train in the morning.”

“I know, but... I just need to go over the plan again,” Thomas protests, frantically fumbling with the papers with trembling, tired hands. He’s been here pretty much all day, and the sane part of him realizes that he knows the strategy by heart at this point. But there’s a persistent voice in the back of his mind telling him that it’s not enough. That he hasn’t done enough. That they’re going to fail tomorrow, somehow. “I need to know every single move, Newt, or we won’t be able to rescue Minho. I can’t let WCKD get away again, this is our only chance, and we’ve been working on this for—”

Thomas is interrupted by the startling sensation of lips being pressed against the back of his neck. He almost flinches at the action, because he’s not used to being touched like this, like he’s something precious. He and Newt have been doing this for a while now, and he’s incredibly happy that they found a way to love each other in the midst of all the dystopian chaos that the world continuously throws at them. However, he will never get used to being kissed like this, being touched, being reminded that there are some good things left in the universe. 

“I know you’re worried about tomorrow,” Newt mumbles against Thomas' skin, sliding his arms around his waist before continuing. “We all are. But there’s nothing left for you to do now, alright? Except for getting a good night’s sleep.”

A wonderful feeling of pure warmth blooms in Thomas' chest, much like it does whenever he’s around Newt. That feeling is always accompanied by some level of guilt, however, because there are always more important things to do. Like focusing on the crucial rescue mission that he’s not even remotely ready for, and it’s going to happen in just a couple of hours.

Thomas sighs, hesitates. “Newt...”

Newt gently spins him around so that they’re face to face. Thomas realizes, once again, that Newt is even more beautiful like this; up close. His eyes are dark pools of determination and something else—something more mysterious that he can’t quite distinguish—as he quietly studies Thomas. Their lack of height difference allows Newt to press another soft kiss to the corner of his mouth before whispering, “come to bed, love. Let me make you feel better, yeah?”

Thomas’ heart rate picks up at Newt’s words and the obvious implications they hold, and the gentle warmth in his chest is suddenly replaced by an unpleasant sense of nervousness. This thing between them is still new, still delicate. They’ve never gone beyond holding hands or kissing, and honestly, Thomas has no desire of doing so. It’s just something that hasn't crossed his mind, and it also hasn't occurred to him that it’s something that Newt might want.

It’s silly, Thomas thinks, that _this_ is what he finds off-putting, of all things. Sex. If he has understood it correctly, it is considered to be one of the simple yet greatest pleasures that life has to offer, and the lust for it comes naturally and inevitably to everyone. But he never once thought about it before, didn’t even contemplate it being important to anyone, considering the horrible circumstances under which they live.

Until Brenda let her guard down and drunkenly kissed him back in the Scorch, maybe. Until they joined the Right Arm and finally caught a break, allowing Thomas to occasionally sit still and just _observe_. Observe the way his male friends would sometimes longingly stare at the girls from Group B, for example. And every time that happened, Thomas couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that sex is something that they all probably crave, even though the small amount of knowledge Thomas has of the human body tells him that sexual attraction is something natural that _everyone_ experiences. 

His own body, however, says otherwise. It doesn't say anything at all, really.

He’d awkwardly asked Brenda about it, once, when they were alone and Thomas had been tricked into ‘getting his mind off of things’ with the help of a bottle of wine that Brenda had stolen from Jorge’s stash. Thomas brought up his observations first, and then stuttered out a question that went something like, _how can people even think about... you know? I mean, how can that be important right now, in this shitty world that we live in?_

Brenda’s simple answer was, _people love, Thomas. Best of times, worst of times. People love._

It sounded a lot like she was implying that attraction was a definitive part of romantic love, so why hasn’t Thomas ever felt it? He loves Newt, after all. So much that it makes him feel a bit nauseous, sometimes. So much that he can’t stand it. How, then, can the implications of Brenda's statement be true? And if it truly is, then why is Thomas an exception?

His train of thought is cut short when Newt raises a hand to cup his cheek, caressing it gently with his thumb. “Tommy? Where’d you go just now?”

“Uh, sorry, I spaced out,” Thomas stutters, refusing to meet Newt’s fixed gaze. He feels so stupid, so sick of being confused all the time. “I’m not tired yet,” he lies, “but you go ahead. Don’t wait up, okay?”

But Newt sees right through him, as always. Something seems to dawn on him when Thomas tries to escape his embrace. “Tommy,” he begins, taking Thomas’ hand in his, making them face each other once more. “I wasn’t... I didn’t mean to imply anything, nothing like that. I apologize if it came across that way. I just want you to get a peaceful night’s sleep, and I was thinking that maybe my presence could add to that. That’s all, really.”

Thomas dares to meet his gaze, then, and it is as truthful and loyal as it always has been. The blooming warmth comes back, surges through his whole body, settles and stays in every single fiber of his being.

“Good,” Thomas says sheepishly, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck just to have something to do with the hand that isn’t currently holding Newt’s. “‘Cause I’m not really sure if I’m interested in doing... that. Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with—”

“Don’t you bloody dare finish that sentence, Tommy,” Newt cuts him off to say. “And don’t apologize, for Christ’s sake. There is absolutely _nothing_ wrong with you. There’s nothing odd about your feelings, or lack thereof. Understood?”

Thomas is surprised to find that Newt’s single piece of validation is enough to make him feel somewhat okay again. He reaches up to wrap his arms around Newt's shoulders, absentmindedly playing with the soft hair on the back of his head. Newt responds immediately by putting his hands on Thomas' waist again, completing the puzzle perfectly.

“Understood,” Thomas laughs and leans forward, letting his eyes flutter shut. They have a big mission tomorrow, and a long way to go, but Thomas thinks he might've found his Safe Haven already. It's right here—in a tent in the middle of a wasteland, with his forehead pressed against Newt's, the two of them breathing the same air. “Thanks, Newt.” 

“Don’t thank me either,” Newt whispers and gives him a sleepy, adorable smile, blurred by their intimate proximity. Their noses brush, and Thomas goes weak in the knees despite having done this many times before. “Kiss me instead. Only if that’s something you're interested in doing, though.”

“It is. I always wanna kiss you,” Thomas blurts out, no doubt blushing like the lovestruck idiot that he is, that Newt turns him into. 

“Go on, then, love.”

They meet in the middle, and undeniable clarity replaces Thomas’ confusion as their lips touch.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm @fiarevirus on twitter!! come talk to me about tmr!!  
> also, I have two unfinished newtmas fics on the way, so let me know if you want me to post them eventually? idk if I have an "audience" anymore sdfghfdfg anyways ily


End file.
